Adventures in Womanhood

Mi Hija

I flipped the switch but the lights didn’t come on. Unsurprised, I stepped across the threshold into the dark, let my eyes adjust. My feet fell onto soft carpet, making no sound as I advanced into the room. Just as it should be. Noise would be most unwelcome at this juncture. My heart pounded even as my armpits tingled and I wondered at my nervousness. Such a small thing, I reminded myself. Yet so important. My anxiety turned to determination and I continued to cross the floor.

Guided by the sliver of moonlight that crept stealthily into the room, I approached her where she slept by the window. My fingers itched and trembled. I hesitated. Doubt warred within me – what was I even doing here? At any moment she would wake up and the crying would start and I would be helpless. Again. Of its own accord my hand moved to hover above her sleeping form, its intent unclear.

My breathing hitched.

Her eyes opened.

I froze.

She blinked at me sleepily and gurgled once before nestling down in her blanket and returning to slumber. Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I would have stroked her cheek had I not been afraid to wake her. By day she was a holy terror, but by night – like fairies dancing in moonlit rings – she was a tiny miracle.